Ariadne has always been a dreamer. Her mother would always say she was away with the faeries.
Until one night, an envelope shrouded with magic lands at her doorstep, inviting her to the dance of the damned in the enchanting land of Altoria.
It's m...
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The days leading up to the ball were hectic. Ariadne had been stuck in rooms full of curious advisors, Kallen and of course, her ever present friend Kendra. Everyone bustled about the castle preparing for it. Several times Ariadne had caught courtiers laughing behind their hands, or openly leering at her. Other times she'd spotted servant's leading strange and unusual animals on leashes throughout the open corridors.
Kendra was Ariadne's rock, and she was thankful for that at least.
Ariadne turned on the small round podium, it was stood about a foot off the floor, and she looked at Kendra. Her mouth was occupied by the end of a tape measure, and on her wrist sat a small cushion full of long spindly pins. Ariadne tugged on the slightly rough material pinned next to her skin.
"Watch those pins!" Kendra warned.
Ariadne dropped her hands as Kendra came round from behind her and measured her waist again.
"twenty inches... So tiny..." Kendra grabbed the sheet of parchment that she had placed on the table at the start of the fitting, and jotted down the number.
"Remind me why I'm here again, please?"
Ariadne fiddled with the one thing that was not tucked, pleated or pinned tight, her hair. She pulled the loose braid over her shoulder and her fingers ran through the sightly split ends. She'd cut them herself later. For now her thoughts were occupied with whatever this was.
"The king specifically asked for me to help make you a gown befitting the ball," Kendra said while pulling the fabric tighter at Ariadne's side.
She deftly pinned it with expert fingers and stood back. Kendra shook her head, put down the tape measure and gently turned Ariadne on the podium so she could see the back. Kendra grabbed the ends of the plain fabric and tugged them tight enough for Ariadne to gasp.
"How much tighter?" Ariadne gasped.
"Corsets are meant to be tight. If you're not gasping for breath, it's not working," Kendra pinned more fabric.
Ariadne supposed that were true. She could barely breath in this ghost of a garment, and had balked in fear when Kendra told her that this wasn't even the proper gown. Kendra had said this was just a fitting so that the seamstresses down the hall had something to go on. They were the real magicians according to Kendra. Ariadne had a feeling she would agree.
Finally Kendra stood back and nodded her head once. "It'll have to do I suppose."
Ariadne looked at her reflection in the ornate gilded mirror that hung suspended from the ceiling on nothing but golden chains. The cream coloured harsh fabric hugged the top of her ribs, nipped in her waist to ridiculously tiny proportions, then gently flared back out over her hips. The garment smoothed her silhouette and gave her an hourglass shape, where before there had only been an echo of one.
